


First Christmas

by phoenixnz



Series: The Chronicles of Martha and Jonathan [10]
Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7530946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixnz/pseuds/phoenixnz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lives of Jonathan and Martha from their first date to the Smallville finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so a few things sort of came up in my mind while writing this part. One, it was fairly clear that the Kents kept Clark a little isolated from everyone, which was normal for parents trying to protect a child who was different. I'm not sure exactly when they let Clark go to school, but I'm guessing they home-schooled him for a couple of years, otherwise it seems odd to me that he would get to third grade, or whenever it was, and not see Lana before then. Especially as they lived a mile apart. Of course, it could have something to do with Nell, whom I suspect was a bit of a gossip and given her attitude (not to mention jealousy) toward Martha, I'm not surprised they had little to do with her.
> 
> Two, Clark's a smart kid. At three, I don't think it would have taken very long for him to learn English at all, so I have him starting to speak it after only two months, although at this point, he's more or less repeating what his parents say without much comprehension.
> 
> Three, while this series is primarily about Martha and Jonathan's relationship, raising Clark is a big part of that and I wanted to explore their p.o.v.s on Clark's firsts. So, of course, this is Clark's first Christmas. Yes, I am aware it's July, but I'm writing these snippets chronologically and I didn't want to wait until December to post the next installment.
> 
> Four, I think it would be rather odd to pretend that Clark automatically knows little things like toilet training, let alone how to control his strength, yet don't you think it's also odd that a child who is strong enough to lift up a heavy oak bed knows to control himself enough that he doesn't step through floorboards or knock Martha over when he runs up to her in Lineage? I'm sure someone would have a scientific explanation, but personally, I think the ship was running some kind of assimilation program through Clark's journey, teaching him control, since it's fairly obvious he wasn't placed in stasis like Kara was, otherwise he'd still be a tiny baby in the pod when Martha and Jonathan find him.

Christmas was usually a quiet holiday in the Kent household, but Jonathan had decided that since this was Clark’s first Christmas, he was going to make it a memorable one for his son. He had gone out to the back forty and cut down a pine tree, taking it back home and installing it in the parlour.

Clark was fascinated with the huge tree. He’d just started talking, although he wasn’t quite up to actual English yet, and he babbled happily as he watched his father struggle valiantly with the huge tree, making sure it was balanced in the stand.

Martha came downstairs, lugging a huge box.

“I found these in the attic,” she said, brushing her hair back. Jonathan smiled at his wife, then reached over, picking up a cobweb which had become caught in her long hair. He took the box from her, putting it down on the floor then kneeling down to open it up.

Clark toddled over, getting down on his knees and placing his hand in the box.

“Careful son,” Jonathan told him gently, not wanting to scold the little boy who didn’t know how to control his peculiar strength yet. There had been a couple of accidents in the two months he’d been with them. Luckily so far he’d only crushed a toy when he’d picked it up and broken an egg when he’d tried to help his father gather the eggs from the chickens. He’d been upset about both incidents but they’d comforted him, telling him it was okay. No harm had been done.

It had occurred to Jonathan to wonder exactly what had happened inside the ship during the boy’s journey through space. He would have thought it would be too easy for Clark to have put his foot through a floorboard, considering his strength, or put his hand through a wall, yet he seemed to instinctively understand how not to do such things.

He was clearly learning fast. Jonathan would look at his son sometimes and practically see the wheels turning in the child’s head as he figured things out. He already knew how to turn on a faucet and he was already resisting his mother’s attempts to dress him in suitable clothes.

There were plenty of other things that Jonathan assumed were perfectly natural for a child Clark’s age. He was old enough to have learned toilet-training, but young enough to need pull-ups and there had been a couple of overnight accidents. Still, that was totally normal, according to the books Martha had read.

Clark picked up a gold-coloured bauble, holding it carefully in his small hand. He sent a questioning look to his father and babbled.

“I made that in grade school,” Jonathan said, holding it up for his wife to see. She bent down, smiling at Clark.

“Why don’t you help Daddy put it on the tree,” she suggested.

Clark looked at her, then at his father. Jonathan stood up, picking his son up and held out the bauble. He moved toward the tree and handed the bauble to Clark, making sure he held it by the string, then guided his son’s small hand to the tree.

Slowly they worked together to decorate the tree with Martha handing them each decoration. Finally, she handed him the star. Jonathan smiled at his son.

“What do you think, Clark? Shall we put it on the top of the tree?”

Clark grinned and nodded his head. Jonathan reached up and placed it at the top. Luckily the tree wasn’t much taller than him, since he’d opted for a seven footer rather than the nine footer he’d seen on the property.

Martha wrapped an arm around his waist and smiled down at their son.

“Doesn’t the tree look beautiful, Clark? You and Daddy did a great job.”

Clark nodded and clapped his hands. His mouth worked as if he was trying to say something, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Martha took his hand. “Can you say Daddy?” she asked.

“Dee,” he replied.

Well, it was close enough, Jonathan thought.

Two days later it was Christmas Eve. As much as they wanted to go to Mass, Martha thought it wasn’t such a good idea. Especially since Clark was so young. She reasoned that people might ask too many questions and Clark might find it all a little disconcerting.

They hadn’t had too many visitors to the farm as yet. Most people in town knew they kept pretty much to themselves, but word had quickly spread of Clark’s adoption. Nell had, of course, called to ask when they were going to bring Clark into town, Martha had told her that she didn’t think it was a good idea as Clark was still getting used to them.

Nell seemed to have taken that as a personal affront. Jonathan didn’t know any other way it could have been said. They just didn’t know how they were supposed to keep Clark’s strange ability a secret since their son was too little to understand what it all meant.

Christmas Eve night, Clark was acting hyper. He’d picked up on Martha’s excitement of their first Christmas with their first child and as much as Jonathan wanted to scold his son, he couldn’t help but be just as excited, thinking of Clark opening his gifts the next day.

Clark zoomed past him, giggling as his mother pursued him. Jonathan had to laugh. Clark was butt naked. Martha had taken him upstairs for his bath but the boy had obviously slipped past her.

“You come back here, young man!” she was calling out, her voice full of amusement.

Clark again moved to pass him and Jonathan reached out, grabbing the giggling toddler and hoisting him in his arms.

“Whoa buddy, where do you think you’re going?”

“Play Daddeee!”

Jonathan almost dropped his son in shock as Clark uttered those words. Martha practically skidded to a stop, staring at their son in surprise. Clark giggled at the reaction.

“Play Daddeee!” he said again, squirming in Jonathan’s arms.

Jonathan laughed and threw his son up in the air, catching him and hugging him tightly.

“Oh no, buddy, Daddy can’t play. It’s bathtime then you have to go to bed or else Santa Claus won’t come.”

Clark looked at him, his brow furrowed as he tried to process the information. He let Jonathan carry him back upstairs to the bath.

Martha stood and watched as her husband chattered to Clark, who babbled back. She couldn’t help smiling at the sounds her precious boy was making. She didn’t mind that he’d learned to say ‘Daddy’ first. It was only a matter of time before he began to say ‘Mommy’, given the speed he was learning English.

Jonathan turned his head and looked at her, his eyes twinkling. He clearly loved being a father and adored their little boy. It was a big change from two months ago when they’d both been so unsure of how to deal with this strange child. Now Martha knew her husband would do anything to protect their son.

She picked up a huge fluffy towel as Jonathan lifted Clark out of the bath and wrapped the toddler in it. He squirmed, clearly still wanting to play. Martha dried him off quickly and dressed him in flannel pyjamas. She’d found a pattern in a book and had made up the pyjamas using some material she had had left over from making a couple of work shirts for Jonathan. Maybe they weren’t fashionable, but it was less expensive than buying them from the local store. The farm was just making ends meet and they didn’t really have a lot of money for luxuries, so she had to make do.

She often wondered whether she should contact her parents and see if they would help out financially, but she knew Jonathan wouldn’t go for it. She loved her husband but he could be a stubborn ass at times. There was also the fact that her parents would probably want to get to know Clark and she wasn’t willing to risk them knowing about Clark’s origins. Her mother would most likely take it in stride, but her father would ask too many questions for which she didn’t have answers.

Jonathan helped Clark brush his teeth and took him out to his bedroom. Martha followed, again watching as her husband deposited the toddler on the bed and pulled back the covers.

“In you get, son,” he said. “How about we read a story?”

Clark nodded enthusiastically. He pointed to the bookshelf. They had managed to get a few books at a sale, including The Velveteen Rabbit, which was fast becoming Clark’s favourite. Jonathan went to the shelf, his hand hovering beside that book, but he chose instead to pick up The Night Before Christmas.

Martha sat in the chair beside the bed, loving the little ritual they were developing as Jonathan settled on the bed with Clark practically in his lap. The little boy was riveted as her husband opened the book and began to read.

“Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse …”

Martha stroked her son’s dark head as his eyelids began to droop. As much as he was trying to fight it, he was getting sleepy. Jonathan hadn’t even finished when Clark fell asleep.

She leaned over and kissed her baby goodnight, giving her husband a soft, loving smile as he did the same, tucking the blankets around the sleeping child.

Hand in hand, they crept quietly out of the room and back down the stairs. Martha poured them each a glass of egg nog - homemade, of course - and they sat on the sofa, watching the coloured lights twinkling on the Christmas tree.

Martha could still remember wishing each Christmas since she and Jonathan had married that they would soon share the holiday with their own child, and been disappointed when yet again that wish hadn’t been fulfilled. Last Christmas she hadn’t made the wish, but somehow she had been granted that miracle anyway.

Tomorrow, Clark would open his gifts and probably make a mess in the process. Jonathan would probably give her something he’d either made himself or some bauble he probably thought she would fancy, but none of that really mattered. She already had her gift, she thought, silently thanking whatever power had deemed she was worthy of such a gift.

Jonathan gave her a one-armed hug, kissing her gently.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said.

“Merry Christmas,” she returned, relaxing in the comfort of his embrace, closing her eyes and dreaming of their first Christmas as a family and of the many Christmases to come.


End file.
